100 Prompt Challenge: Video Games
by Mister Bombastic
Summary: A collection of prompts and oneshots based off several video games and not restricted to one in particular. There will be some adult themes throughout the prompts. Overwatch, Star Wars, Rainbow Six, For Honor, and Grand Theft Auto are just the few games that'll appear. Rated M just in case
1. Author's Note

**The Beginning of my 100 prompt challenge. Like in the summary, my prompts will be focused on various videogames I play and know about, and not restricted to one game as the FF servers won't allow more than two catergories at a time. Thought that uploading this will better explain the story. Feel free to say what you think in the reviews.**

 **Sincerely yours,**

 **-Mister Bombastic**


	2. Prompt 1: Lock

_**100 prompt challenge:**_

 _ **Prompt 1: Lock**_

* * *

Lilian was locked out the room of her apartment. Again. Soaking wet. And begging chased by law enforcement. With her keys missing.

Los Santos, as wise as it was, decided that today wasn't her day.

She jiggled the doorknob in a pathetic attempt to open the door. To no shock it didn't open up as she intended. She had to kick the door down. Lilian thought of the other possibilities.

She could shoot the door open. No, it would be too loud, the neighbors or police can hear. Lilian can kick the door open, but it would seem like she's breaking in, and someone can call the police on her which is the last damn thing she needed. The woman considered a third option: surrendering.

But no, she just got here. Gerald was counting on her in next jobs, she just got contacted by Madrazo for Christ's sake. There was just too much of a life she could've have t be ended by something as insignificant as a locked door. She was confident that there's a Nietzsche quote about a situation exactly like this.

She jiggled in vain, knowing it was effortless. She can hear the police already enter the apartment building down below, asking questions to the building's inhabitants. Lilian gulped as she tried to slam the door with her shoulder, an attempt that proved to be useless. The police ascended the stairs to her floor and began to aim their guns towards the end of the hall were Lilian stood defeated, locked outside by her own door.

"Put your hands up, Lay on the floor!"

This is it, it ended. Lilian sighed and brought out the pistol in her hip and lifted it up. The policemen shot her down in an instant, she died before she even hit the floor. The brain can react millions of times faster than a bullet can, and her life flashed between her eyes as bullets pierced her skin. She saw her first love in her small town in Washington, she saw herself graduating from school. Lilian also saw herself slipping out and again from Jail, before she finally booked a ticket to Los Santos to start all over. She remembers meeting Jamal and their first race, the first time she stepped on Vespucci beach and the first time she killed a man in cold blood in a mission from Gerald. And now, she was up to this moment.

She laid there as a pool of blood began to quickly leak out of her like a punctured soda can, the crimson stream flowing underneath the door into her little apartment. The police quickly came to her position and kicked the gun away from her hand as they checked her pulse for signs of life. They didn't found any.

"She's dead. I repeat, suspect is dead." The police officer called into his radio. In the previous firefight, the window had broken and a potted plant scattered about from a ricochet. The police officer noted something off in the plant's brown guts, and leaned forward. "I think there's a key in here…"

"What?"

"Yeah, there's a key in here." He carefully picked up the key and examined it. He turn to the door that had some splinters and tested the key to the knob.

With a click, it unlocked.

"Looks like she forgot about her spare." The other officer chuckled. They both stared at the dead woman's opened eyes and mouth and shook their head.

The officer sighed, and put his gun away as he radioed for assistance. "All because of a locked door."

"Y'know," the other officer said, making some room away from the growing blood pool. Even in death, she thought that the woman that had been gunned down was expecting this. "I think there's a Nietzsche quote about this."

* * *

 **A/N: A small time criminal in Los Santos pays the price for her crimes. Thanks for reading**


	3. Prompt 2: Treat

_**100 Prompt Challenge:**_

 _ **Prompt 2: Treat**_

* * *

After hours of rummaging through dirty irradiated wastes, Ghoul-filled shops, and raider-infested holdouts, Nate had finally found what he was looking for. When he found the bag he almost cried as he held it in his hands. There, plain as day was the bold, faded letters of the name of the thing

Bark Bites, a dog's best treat.

Nate's little moment of emotion ended shortly after when he checked his Pipboy. He had spent two days looking for the damn bag and was nearly fifty miles away from Sanctuary Hills. Could be at least a day or more to go back.

Nonetheless, he troopered on with his quest. Through the densely packed maze of trees, the houses filled with radioactive vermin, and the roads full of amoral Raider's and highwaymen Nate had finally made it to the small outpost of Red Rocket Truck Stop. He took a break and indulged himself in the rest that was available to him.

After a few minutes of resting he open his pack and grabbed the dog treats from the innards. He admired the bag, seeing the clear screen of plastic revealing the bone-shaped treats. Nate smiled at the reaction Dogmeat could have at such the gift. Nothing was too daring or too far when it came to pleasing his friends and dear companions.

When he made it into Sanctuary Hills, he was immediately greeted by the guardsmen, and then the various residents of Sanctuary Hills. However, Dogmeat still hadn't showed up to greet Nate. An odd occurrence.

Where's Dogmeat? Nate wondered, as he made his way to his home. He opened the door and yet Dogmeat still hadn't showed. His heart began to pace a bit, worry coming over his face. He checked the backyard in the doghouse, and Dogmeat was nowhere to be found.

Nate checked the various rooms of his home and yet no sight of the canine. Nate sighed and decided that he can take his things off before he could look for Dogmeat. When he opened the door to his room, his relief immediately washed over him.

There was Dogmeat, sleeping deeply in the center of the bed. He was adorned with various gifts and snacks around him. Nate smiled and dug into his bag and pulled out the pack of dog treats and placed them next to him.

"Happy birthday boy." He said, gently bustling the dog's head. Dogmeat's ears twitched from the contact and he shifted around. With a happy sigh, Nate backed away and closed the door behind him.

* * *

 ** _A/N: A short little story about The Sole Survivor and Dogmeat._**

 ** _Just some filler as I continue to work on my stories, I hope you enjoy_**


	4. Prompt 3: Sand

**_100_** **_prompt challenge:_**

 ** _Prompt 3: Sand_**

One can never really grow accustomed to the endless sea of sand in the armpit of a planet called Tatooine. Even in the Empire, it was rumored that Darth Vader himself despised the very essence of sand and its ability to get in every crack and niche known to in Universe.

TF-433 of the Galactic Empire knew this all too well. He sighed as he knocked out grains of course sand out of his weapon, blending in the sea of Tatooine.

If the Rebels were hiding here, it was a pretty damn good spot to piss off in.

The "city" of Mos Eisley (if it can be called a city) was a little crappy spot of living. Full of thieves, criminals, and other unfriendly kind of people that would thrive in such a sad setting. TF-433 knew this all too well, and such a place would be prime location for Rebels to thrive as well.

The marketplace was quickly rounded up by the troopers, civilians and suspected rebels cuffed and lined up, either on their knees or against a wall. TF-433 walked along an isolated corridor in the more crowded, less secured area of the city. He raised his blaster as he cautiously walked along the sandy paths of various buildings and homes. TF-433 swear he could hear harsh whispers and scrapping of boots across sand and concrete. He commed into Command, who buzzed back immediately.

"This is TF-433, I hear possible Rebels in sector 3 of the city. Sending coordinates now." He crumpled against a wall and peeled over the corner. His HUD system had targeted three figures in the dark shadows that hid the Rebels, their positions nearly the same as his. They helped their blasters in their hands tightly, looking at the blue sky with worry every time a TIE fighter flew overhead.

He took a sigh and quickly pivoted to face them. His blaster activated, sending red bolts straight towards them. TF-433 had fired three and landed all three, killing two of the three rebels. As their bodies dropped to the floor smoke rising from their wounds the third rebel tried to activate their blaster but failed. TF-433 rushed up to the woman, barrel still smoking.

"Drop your weapon rebel scum." He spat, digging the hot gun into her side. The woman winced at the heat and dropped her rickety blaster and raised her hands up. TF-433 took no time and shoved her against the dark wall, he face pressed to the side. She began to close her eyes in shame, the thought of even getting captured by a lowly stormtrooper in front of her now dead compatriots too much of a blow to her.

"You're under arrest for crimes of Terrorism rebel." TF-433 brought out his cuffs an slapped them on her wrists, quickly yanking her back. "Now get moving, we'll see that you'll find a nice cell to wallow in."

"I'm not the evil one here." She mutters, her face lined with anger. "You are! The Empire has done all the evil things, wake up and see that you're just their slave."

TF-433 quickly bright the end of his gun to her head, causing the younger rebel to crumple to the floor all too easily. She groaned, before his hand grabbed her neck collar and shot her straight up. "Keep moving rebel."

She groaned, her vision distorted and her head cloudy. The rebel cursed to herself, she must've gotten a concussion from the blow. She walked shakily as TF-433 pushed her farther. The rebel stumbled and tripped on her feet, landing face first in the deep, beige sand. He picked her up and lead her to the town square where the Imperials had set up a base.

An officer approached the two as TF-433 stood at attention. He held the rebel firmly by the cuffs, and the rebel looked away from the officer. The officer leaned down at the slumped rebel, a smirk on her matured face.

"Good work trooper, but she's of low rank. Send her off and go back on patrol." She nodded. He tossed the dazed woman to the ground and stood at attention.

"Yes sir." He obediently replied. The officer nodded once more and left with the Rebel in tow, another trooper escorting her. TF-433 relaxed a bit before venturing off towards the city center yet again.

He stopped in his tracks, feeling the coarse grains of sand lodged in his armor plates. He hit the plates a few times as sand poured out of the pockets. How he hated sand. At least the war will be over soon, the Rebels didn't stand a chance.

 **A/N: A stormtrooper invades Mos Eisley. Based off a gameplay of Star Wars Battlefront 2**


	5. Prompt 4: Salt

**100 prompt challenge:**

 **Prompt 4: Salt**

 **—Dialogue heavy—**

* * *

"I can't believe that you can wear something so idiotic." Thatcher scoffed, judgmental eyes behind the gas mask he wore for missions. Dokkaebi gave him an unamused stare.

"What's that supposed to mean old man?"

"It means that your getup is idiotic; loose flimsy glasses are a liability, pigtails are out of regulation, and those streaks in your hair are prime sniper bait."

Dokkaebi scoffed. "Whatever old man, I can do what I want with my appearance. You don't yell at Ash or Ela for having colorful or unregulated hair. I bet you're just salty that you're growing bald, that's why you wear that gas mask all the time."

"Look here, I'm not going to be insulted by a—wait, salty?"

"Yeah, salty."

Thatcher recoiled back. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means what it means, don't you know?"

"Of bloody course not, I'm not a kid anymore. I don't listen to that jay-bop or that hippy trap rap. I don't understand your type of slang."

Dokkaebi snorted, containing her laughter. "Jay-bop, hippy trap? Haha old man, you're just too funny!"

"Isn't that what you kids listen to now, that Little bump and that crazy bloke, Extention?" He asked. "I'm sure that's where you kids get 'salty' from, where bloody else do you get it if not from music like that."

Dokkaebi cackled obnoxiously, her pale features reddening from laughter. "Oh my god, I can't breathe, I can't breathe!"

Thatcher simply raised a brough before letting out a discontented sigh, her laughter taking up the room.

"Ugh," Thatcher rubbed his facial mask, "I don't understand the younger generation."

At that moment, Mute passed by before turning his head to the room that Thatcher and Dokkaebi occupied, the rooms loud cackling attracting his attention. Thatcher called out for him. "Over here Mark, I need to ask you something."

He entered the room greeting. "Grace, Mike." He nodded. "To what do I owe the pleasure."

"What does Salty mean and where does it come from Mark." Thatcher replied. "She called me salty and I don't know what it means."

Mute sighed. "Really, that's what the commotion was about?"

"Isn't it hilarious?" Dokkaebi giggled. "He thinks it came from Jpop and Trap."

"See, I don't know that stuff. You have to tell me Mark, as your superior I order you to tell me what salty is."

Mute gave an exasperated sigh. "It just means you're angry or pissed off about something small or doesn't merit anger. Like let's say you lose a game of Overwatch and you begin to trash talk the team. You're the only angry person there, and they think you're being salty, get it now old man?"

"..."

"Well?"

"What the bloody fuck is Over watch?"

* * *

 **Thatcher, Dokkaebi, and Mute have an interesting conversation, lol**

 **Simple update, haven't started any stories recently but that'll change tomorrow, cheers!**


	6. Prompt 5: Clip & Authors Note

**_100 Prompt Challenge_**

 ** _Prompt 4: Clip_**

* * *

Another explosion, another kill.

"Score one for !" The female voice called out, the mechanical thumps of the mech's feet making deep craters where it use to stand. smiled victoriously at the carnage she caused to the abandoned town, admiring the molten metal skeletons of rogue omnics and robots.

The ding of another donation ringed through the mech's sound system. smiled at her cam, giving a cutesy wave to whoever donated. "Thank you, I'll save that clip to my highlight reel!"

* * *

 **A/N: Not really an actual prompt answer but more of an excuse to talk about current situations of my stories and my profile.**

 **I've been taking a small hiatus on Under the Rainbow is not much progress has been done on it. The reason for said Hiatus is simply because I had more IRL matters to attend to, but not to worry, I'm currently working on it albeit a much slower pace for now.**

 **Now for my Sexapedes of the Wasteland.**

 **It seems it was yet again removed from my profile because I was receiving harassment over PM over what I should make and what I should do. I've decided to upload it at least one more time, although I'll will flat out block you if you decide to voice your harassment to me. Realize that I take actual time to make this story and I don't appreciate that some of you decide to act like I'm your personal author.**

 **Sorry for that little rant btw guys, it's obviously not pointed at all of you, just the small minority who tend to be very vocal.**

 **Anyways, enjoy your life and I'll see you soon.**

 **-Mister Bombastic**

 **P.s. check out my Rainbow 6 forum on my profile!**


	7. Prompt 6: Bread

**_100 prompt challenge:_**

 ** _Prompt 6: Bread_**

* * *

The greatest tragedy that had ever affected Apollyon was the viewing of bread being burned.

She remembers the night starkly, the first of many nights of empty stomachs and desperate muggings of an unfortunate passerby. Apollyon knew what hunger can do to a human being, she had seen it so much it didn't affect her when she gutted the next person to steal whatever moldy bread and foodstuffs they contained.

The young woman was hiding behind a fallen tree, spying on a traveler who sat and stared blankly into a waning campfire. She saw him break into a bag of sorts and began eating his food, chewing slowly into the roll. Apollyon licked her lips at the sight, her hand shaking from the sudden rush of hunger that quaked in her. She crept slowly, closing the distance between her and the stranger. Soon Apollyon shall eat, she'll gather the strength and urged herself on, she'll—-

Then he tossed the bread into the weakened fire.

Apollyon stood awestruck by the action. How...how can someone waste something so precious, so necessary to survive. She couldn't figure out a reason why such a terrible thing happened. Apollyon backed away, unnoticed by the man she was meant to rob.

Now she stands in her blackened armor, in front of a burning warehouse full of grain and food. She found it ironic that she would be the one to torch such a precious commodity, but she digresses.

When in hunger, the wolf truly shows what it is.

* * *

 **A/N: a little story about Apollyon from For Honor. Now time for some news.**

 **I'll be taking longer than expected with Under The Rainbow this update simply because I'm taking a small hiatus and the chapter is going to be longer than usual because of its importance in the arc.**

 **The hiatus is simply for because I'm kinda burned out right now, so I'm taking a break from writing for now. Besides that I hope you all enjoy this weekend!**

 **-Mister Bombastic**


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